


everybody here wants you

by firstaudrina



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Harvey/Roz, Infidelity, M/M, Smooching, but it's life or death!, to avoid being sacrificed to the green man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstaudrina/pseuds/firstaudrina
Summary: Nick has a plan to save Harvey from the pagans. It involves kissing.An alternate take on Part 3, Ep 7, "Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Judas Kiss."
Relationships: Harvey Kinkle/Nicholas Scratch
Comments: 19
Kudos: 191
Collections: hekiv's CAOS collection





	everybody here wants you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riddlemethistoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemethistoo/gifts).



> I just wanted them to make out, sue me. And thank you to the ever-lovely riddlemethistoo for helping unlock the idea in my head!

When the pagans come calling, they scatter. 

The garage has a set of doors on either side, so when the pagans come in one, they go out the other. Robin is first because he’s the fastest, his fingers tangled tight with Theo’s, who extends his other hand to catch Roz’s. But when Roz reaches back for Harvey, her face stricken, they miss each other somehow — a burst of supernatural speed carries her out too fast, their fingertips brushing but too far to grab on. Robin zips them out in a rapid ribbon, leaving Harvey and Nick scrambling on their own out in the bright sunlight with a bloodthirsty crowd at their backs.

“Come here,” Nick says, impatient even now when they’re about to _die_ , because he is a jerk and always has been. But Harvey goes anyway. Nick takes him by the wrist and mutters some weird Latin shit that makes them blink out of existence and then blink back in, except they’re no longer in the wide open field next to the garage. They’re inside a shed. Harvey actually knows this shed — it’s his, not even a hundred yards from where they’d been. 

It’s a tight fit, the shed packed with old rusting equipment that hasn’t been used in decades. There’s only a couple of feet of space in any direction, leaving him and Nick standing in a cramped square together, breathing dust in the dim light. “They’re going to —” Harvey starts, but Nick covers his mouth.

“I don’t have much magic right now,” Nick says, a harsh whisper. “It’ll have to do.”

There’s shouting outside. Harvey freezes even though he wants to shake off Nick’s hand and maybe push him away, an impulse he feels instantly guilty about because it’s not Nick’s fault that this is happening. It wouldn’t be fair for Harvey to take out his fear and anger on Nick — that’s what cowards do. “It won’t help,” he breathes when Nick drops his hand, panic putting a shiver in his voice. “She can sense me — _smell me_ —”

That was what she said — Nagaina, the snake lady. _Once I have a virgin’s scent, none can hide from me_.

People were so weird about Harvey waiting to have sex. He didn’t know why it was such a big deal. He was only just sixteen; he and Roz had only just gotten together. He didn’t need judgmental carnival workers making him feel bad about it. It was his decision to make, whenever he was ready. That was what Roz said, and she should know. 

Nick is thinking. His straight dark eyebrows draw together, his mouth sharply downturned. There are only a few wan beams of light coming in through cracks in the wood, casting odd shadows on his face. He’s just as still as Harvey is, both of them afraid of making too much noise, doing anything that alerts the pagans to where they are.

“I have an idea,” Nick says warily, finally looking at Harvey. “You’re not going to like it.”

“My main concern is not being sacrificed to an ancient deity with really backwards views on purity,” Harvey says. “I’ll try anything.”

It’s hard to tell, but he thinks Nick’s lips might twitch. “Then let’s see,” he says, “if my sin can hide your virtue.”

Before Harvey can ask what he means by that, Nick kisses him. 

Harvey gasps, and his lips part just enough for the kiss to stutter into something deeper, Nick’s head tilting with it. Shock has Harvey up against the wall of the shed, shoulder blades thrust back and hands kind of — he doesn’t even know. The old wood creaks faintly, scrapes against the fabric of his shirt. Nick’s hands are on his waist. It’s weirdly respectable, except for the whole mouth thing, Nick’s fitting against Harvey’s, his lips very soft.

Harvey is so caught up in that — unbreathing, unmoving, his eyes closed — that he has to run Nick’s words back in his head a few times before they turn into actual words, not just unintelligible sounds blitzed into meaninglessness by Nick’s kiss. He’s trying to protect Harvey, in the weirdest way possible in Harvey’s already very weird life, and maybe that makes it sort of okay. Maybe Roz will get it since it’s life or death, maybe she won’t be mad, maybe she’ll even be impressed at Nick’s ingenuity. That’s how Harvey lets himself think of it, because he can’t think of it any other way right now. 

If Harvey is the absence of sex, then Nick just _is_ sex, full stop. He’s all swagger and leather, suave and smirking. He can use that — whatever _that_ is, that quality that makes even grown women like Sabrina’s Aunt Zelda track him across the room with their eyes — to shield Harvey. Maybe then the snake lady will only sense him and not Harvey underneath at all, and now he’s thinking about being underneath Nick, which is bad on several levels, not least of which is that this is strictly a death-preventative kiss. If it works, maybe the pagans will move on without anyone being stuck in a skyscraper-sized ornamental shrub.

Harvey’s hands close on Nick’s shoulders and, hesitantly, he leans into the kiss. Nick pulls back with a slightly questioning sound, so Harvey leans down again, his eyes finally closing as his mouth meets Nick’s.

And that’s when everything goes to hell — not literally — because it turns out Nick had been holding back before. Maybe he had been easing Harvey into it or trying not to freak him out too much; now that he knows Harvey’s on board with avoiding murder via making out, he’s in it in full force, doing whatever it is he does that makes witches weak at the knees. And Harvey’s knees? They’re not exactly trembling, but standing upright is suddenly more of a question than it was before.

Harvey doesn’t know how else to say it, but Nick sort of melts into him. He gets soft and pliant in Harvey’s arms, a sudden warm weight against his body blanketing him from chest to thigh. Nick sinks into him so much that Harvey has to tuck his head down to keep the kiss going, one hand coming up to cup Nick’s cheek.

Nick sets the pace, but in an almost coy way; he breaks the kiss to trade little ones that pop like champagne against Harvey’s mouth, that make him chase them, that invite him in. The hand on Nick’s cheek slides into his hair and tightens, a fistful of black curls that Harvey tugs slightly like he’s giving Nick a shake, telling him to keep still without having to say it. It’s around then that he realizes Nick has been doing it on purpose — teasing Harvey to make him take control. He doesn’t even know he got played until Nick moans, a tremor running through him that Harvey seeks to steady without thinking twice. He runs his hand down Nick’s side in a soothing way, but all that does is make Nick surge up against him, clutching Harvey’s hips hard. 

Suddenly Harvey is very aware that his tongue is in Nick’s mouth and he is a person with a _girlfriend_ whose _tongue_ should not be in someone else’s _mouth_. Is this what it was like for Sabrina? A tender trap, a honeypot? Did she get dizzy from the taste of Nick Scratch and just forget about everything else? 

Harvey’s sympathetic to that, for maybe the first time, because he has no idea what he’s doing but he can’t seem to _stop_. The hand that isn’t in Nick’s hair flounders at his jaw and then clings halfheartedly at his neck, like Harvey wants to draw him closer but can’t, because there’s no closer to go. Harvey shifts restlessly and his stance widens enough that Nick’s hips notch in against him and that’s — well, okay, so that’s what that is, that’s what that feels like. Harvey needs to take a breath, needs to drag air into his lungs, but Nick barely gives him a minute before they’re back at it again.

Nick’s hands scramble up Harvey’s back and then drag back down, a scrape of short nails through fabric that makes Harvey arch against him unexpectedly. Nick makes a little pleased noise. He flicks open the bottom few buttons of Harvey’s shirt but stops there, apparently content to have enough space to get his hands inside, palms smoothing with staggering heat over Harvey’s stomach and sides, up to brush over his nipples. Harvey remembers that Nick is only doing this to hide him, to disguise him, but he’s surprisingly thorough. And he must be getting the job done, because all Harvey can smell is Nick, even over the musty, earthy scent of the shed. He might have expected Nick to smell dark and smoky and dangerous, like some kind of expensive cologne, but he doesn’t. He smells familiar, and strangely homey — like rich chocolate and green tea, black pepper.

Harvey kind of wishes Nick didn’t know he was a virgin, even though they wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. He can still feel that sideways glance Nick gave him in the garage, like, _oh, tough break, pal_. And because Nick knows that, he has to know how new this is for Harvey. He has to know that he’s one of a very small club who have touched Harvey like this, because Harvey has only ever kissed girls he’s known his whole life. He’s used to having a safety net. Nick is anything but safe.

“Stop, stop —” Harvey sucks in another breath and pushes Nick back, dizzy with it. 

Nick’s hair is wildly rucked up. Had Harvey done that? He doesn’t remember doing it, but he must have; his palms are buzzing with the phantom brush of soft hair. Nick looks away, perhaps listening for the pagans, and in the dim light Harvey can see how flushed his cheeks are, how it goes all down his neck and under his collar. Had Harvey done that too?

He didn’t expect Nick to look like that — rumpled and rosy in a way that takes the edge off him a little. There’s something sweet about it, his flushed skin and wild hair; the idea that he can be affected by things, too. Harvey reaches out with tingling fingertips to touch Nick’s cheek. Nick turns, startled, but when he sees Harvey the look in his eyes gets dark and hot. That startles Harvey, too. Not so sweet now. “You know,” Nick says, voice rough, “if you wanted, we can make you useless as a sacrifice.”

“How?” Harvey asks stupidly, because he feels very stupid right now, but then he realizes: oh. _Oh_.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Both of Nick’s hands press into the wall on either side of Harvey’s head. “Not at all.”

“Here?” Harvey says, which is not what he’s supposed to say at all. Nick does that little smirk again, which Harvey truly hates.

Nick takes a moment to listen for sounds outside, which seem to have died down, except for the odd suspicious crackle. “I can get us to your room.” His voice is low and persuasive, devilish. “I could lay you out on your little mortal bed. I could put myself in your lap. I could —"

“Girlfriend!” Harvey exclaims. “Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Roz. And you — Sabrina.”

Saying Sabrina’s name is like its own spell, and Harvey expects Nick to light right up like a summer sparkler. He may not like Nick, but he can respect how much Nick likes Sabrina. But Nick’s face darkens and his hands fall back to his sides. “No,” he says. “Not me and Sabrina anymore.”

"Oh," he says. "That's right. I'm s—" He cuts himself off as soon as Nick’s expression takes a turn for the murderous, instead pivoting to, “But Roz and I — we’re good.”

He’s still clutching a fistful of Nick’s shirt at the back, that stupid tight polo drawn even tighter in front, so when Harvey looks down he can see how each of Nick’s breaths make his muscles stand out against the thin fabric. It is extremely annoying. He lets go, his knuckles brushing the hot, sweat-slicked skin of Nick’s lower back as he does so, and he gulps, actually gulps like he’s in a cartoon.

“I can’t hear them anymore.” Nick steps back as much as he can in the small space so they’re no longer touching, but when Harvey drops his gaze lower he can see, sort of, that Nick is still — he could feel it when they were pressed together.

If the situation was different — if Harvey wasn’t about to die and he didn’t have a girlfriend, would he let Nick take him to his room and lay him out like he said, take his clothes off and touch him? If the situation was different, they never would have kissed at all. And Harvey is pretty sure there are rules about hooking up with your ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Societal rules.

“Maybe we should wait another minute, to be safe.” It’s not until after Harvey says it that he realizes he’s looking at Nick’s mouth, because Nick’s lips press together in amusement and his eyebrow arches.

“Okay, little mortal,” he says, and comes back in, shorter than Harvey but with so much more _vibe_ somehow. Harvey doesn’t know how he does that. He doesn’t know why he’s tilting down again for Nick to kiss him, when he knows he shouldn’t, when he already _said_ he shouldn’t.

But he’s saved from the moral quandary by the door ripping open, its hinges a scream in the breathless quiet. Nagaina stands there and, behind her, an army. “Nice try, boys,” she says.

And Harvey’s ethical dilemma doesn’t seem quite so pressing anymore.


End file.
